Chapter 4 — Kalen

Kalen’s POV

The summit hall was too warm, too loud, and far too crowded with alphas who enjoyed hearing themselves speak. Kalen stood near the back wall, arms crossed, gaze fixed on the Crescent Fang Pack’s insignia displayed on the giant screens flanking the stage. A silver crescent over black mountains. A symbol he’d seen a thousand times in diplomacy briefings.

But today, it wasn’t the emblem that unsettled him.

It was her.

Eira Thornwind stood beside her father at the front of the hall—calm, poised, wearing a dark fitted jacket and jeans like she’d stepped out of a war room instead of a summit. She wasn’t looking at him, but Kalen felt her presence like pressure under his ribs, a static charge prickling the air every time her eyes scanned the room.

His wolf had gone uncharacteristically alert the moment she walked in. Not tugging—no mate bond humming between them. Just… watching. As if recognizing something his mind hadn’t caught up to.

Kalen hated that feeling.

People didn’t catch him off guard. People didn’t affect him.

Not anymore.

Not since—

He shut down the thought before the memory could drag itself fully forward.

On stage, Alpha Thornwind finished thanking the delegates for attending, his voice carrying authority that came from decades of leadership. “The Summit’s open forums begin tomorrow at nine. Tonight’s gathering is informal—meet, reconnect, share updates with your neighbors and allies.”

Neighbors. Allies.

Kalen snorted. Half the alphas in the room would slit each other’s throats if they could get away with it.

His Beta, Rowan, elbowed him lightly. “You alright? You look like you’re calculating the most efficient route to murder every leader here.”

“Only the stupid ones,” Kalen muttered.

“So all of them,” Rowan said dryly.

He didn’t answer. He was too focused on Eira.

She was smiling politely at a pair of visiting Lunas. Nothing about the expression touched her eyes. She was acting—any wolf could scent the tension radiating off her, the sharp edge of wariness beneath her floral soap and silver-moon aura.

And gods, that scent.

It pulled at something in him. Something he didn’t trust.

A flicker of memory intruded—

Kneeling in a dim training room years ago, blood on his knuckles, his father sneering down at him.

“An alpha feels nothing that clouds judgment. Fix your weakness, boy, or you will not survive.”

Kalen blinked hard, jaw tightening.

Weakness. The old word cut sharper than it should.

“Hey,” Rowan murmured, lowering his voice. “If you’re about to shift and tackle the Crescent Fang princess, give me two seconds’ warning so I can grab popcorn.”

“Shut up,” Kalen said, but there was no heat behind it.

Their eyes met—finally—across the hall when Eira glanced up.

Only for a moment.

Not even a full second.

But the impact hit like a blow.

Silver. Fierce. Too observant.

Like she could peel him open with a single look.

And beneath it… a flash of something else.

Recognition? No. Impossible. They’d never met.

Yet—

Another memory yanked at him, unbidden:

A girl’s voice—young, breathless—crying out somewhere behind a collapsing training barn. Smoke. Wolves screaming. His father dragging him toward the exit while Kalen twisted, trying to go back.

“No attachments,” his father snarled, forcing him through the doorway. “You look back, you die.”

Kalen’s chest tightened. He swallowed against the sudden dryness in his throat. He’d buried that memory years ago. Along with everything attached to it.

Rowan cleared his throat. “You’re staring.”

“I’m observing.”

“You’re staring.”

“Rowan—”

“Dude. You haven’t blinked in like thirty seconds.”

He forced his gaze away, ignoring the way his wolf growled in complaint.

This was ridiculous.

She was an alpha’s daughter—politically valuable, carefully shielded, probably arrogant as hell. Nothing about her should interest him beyond strategy.

Yet—

Her wolf’s energy slid across the room again. Old. Deep. Nothing like the youthful spark most shifters radiated at her age.

What was she?

Alpha Thornwind stepped down from the stage and began greeting the delegations. Eira followed, smiling, composed. But her hands—small, steady—kept flexing at her sides, as if her wolf wanted out.

Kalen’s attention locked on the subtle movement.

His stomach tightened.

She’s hiding something.

His wolf answered with a low internal rumble that wasn’t denial.

Rowan clapped his shoulder. “We should mingle. Make nice with the powerful people. You know, diplomacy.”

“Fine,” Kalen said. “But stay close.”

“To protect me from the alphas—?”

“No.” His eyes slid back toward Eira.

“Because something’s about to shift here. I can feel it.”

And though he would never admit it aloud, not even to Rowan—

He wasn’t sure if he wanted to stop it.